Writing on Desks
by TheLastofUs
Summary: Dean and Castiel both have the same class, same desk, but different periods. Other than that, they didn't know each other at all. (High School AU)


Writing on Desks

**Hi.**

_Hello._

**Bored.**

_As am I._

**Wait, are you responding to me?**

_Yes._

**First period sucks. Singer is grumpy in the morning.**

_Yes. He doesn't seem to be any better in second. **  
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**Did you do the homework?**

_Of course. Isn't there a rule against writing on desks?_

**Dunno. Don't care. I got a C on the homework. **

_How do you get a C on vocabulary?_

**I was never good at words. Does this "talking" every day make us friends?**

_Friends know names._

**Dean. **

_I'm Castiel, then. _

**Best friends?**

_I don't know you._

**You drive a hard bargain. Just friends then?**

_I don't have friends._

**I wonder why.**

_Is that supposed to be a joke?_

**Yeah. I guess it's time to give up on my dream of becoming a comedian.**

_HOW DID I GET A 77 ON THE FINAL?_

**77? Dude I got a D.**

_My cousin would make an innuendo of that. And I never get less than an A. My parents are going to be upset._

**HA. And your parents sound hard. Probably better than them not caring at all, though.**

_They only expect what they know I'm capable of. _

**What you're capable of? You sure?**

_I suppose it's somewhat difficult, but I like the challenge. I like to succeed._

**This is hard.**

_What is? _

**Waiting an entire day to get a two word response. We should exchange numbers ;)**

_You had to draw out the ";)"? I don't have a cell phone. I told you before I don't have friends._

**You just drew it out too ;) ;) :D ^.^ That sucks.**

_Are you doing that just because I expressed distaste for it?_

**:D D: :( v.v m I don't know what you're talking about *.***

**Why'd you scribble out all my amazing smile-drawings? :D**

_No reason._

**Where do you eat lunch?**

_I normally study during the lunch period._

**Seriously? What do you do for fun?**

_Read._

**I said for FUN not to bore yourself to sleep.**

_Reading is increasingly entertaining depending on the material. _

**You always write like you're a dictionary.**

**YOU'RE NOT A DICTIONARY ARE YOU? **

**I SAID I'M NOT GOOD WITH WORDS.**

_How would I be a dictionary?_

**That's a deflection.**

_What, now you're an expert at getting the truth? No, I'm not a dictionary._

**Repetition of used phrases is also a sign of lying. O.O**

_Are we really going back to the smile-drawings?_

**:D**

_:(_

**So detailed.**

_I am in art._

**Really? You should draw me!**

_If I had a penny for every time I've heard that I'd be a millionaire._

**Are you any good?**

_I'm decent._

**Draw me!**

**That's a drawing of a desk.**

_That's what you look like to me._

**Oh. Duh. Draw yourself, then.**

_I'll end up drawing a stick figure. I think we're already pushing it with sentences. Mr. Singer will probably notice a huge self-portrait over the desk._

**It really is a rule, huh? Dumb rule.**

_You do know that the class periods after mine probably see these exchanges. _

_We do._

_**Go on. You guys are cute!**_

I ship them.

**Ship us? What?**

_"Ship" as in short for "relationship." You should read more._

**Like together-together? I'm not gay!**

_Whoever said I was a man?_

**You're not?**

_No, I am._

**... -_- So you're gay, then.**

_Yes._

**Well... This is weird...**

_How?_

**I'm talking to a gay guy.**

_I'm sure you've talked to many before, just haven't noticed it. You shouldn't assume everyone is straight._

**Sorry.**

**Did I upset you?**

**I did.**

**It's been two weeks. Come on.**

**Cas?**

_Mr. Singer had me moved up to the front row. He enforced the no-writing-on-the-desks rule. _

**How are you writing to me now, then?**

**What seat are you in now?**

_Second from the left, front row. We shouldn't talk anymore. I don't want to get into trouble again._

**Goody-two-shoes.**

**I like talking to you th**

"DEAN WINCHESTER!"

Dean's head snapped up and he dropped his pencil.

"What's the matter with you boys in that desk? No writing on school property!"

Dean ducked his head and rubbed at the wood absentmindedly. He could feel all the eyes of his classmates crawling over him. Singer was marching down to where Dean was sitting and slapped a detention slip down on the desk.

"Damn kids," he mumbled to himself; Dean barely heard him. "The other blue-eyed one, too. Have 'em both in detention tomorrow."


End file.
